


Phoenix

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Symbolism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 19:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chirping from him was gone.</p><p>The fluttering of his wings was gone.</p><p>The fire in his heart was gone.</p><p>The Phoenix was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phoenix

Sherlock was nothing short of a Phoenix to John. He was magnificent, outstanding, and unique. Of course, just like all birds, mythical or not, Sherlock was flat out fucking _annoying_ at times. He would produce an unwanted monologue and chatter on much like the feathered beast John mentally compared him to. Sherlock was also always flitting about at a brisk pace, wanting to have no time to rest – even though John successfully made him sit down and stop and eat every once in a while. It always reminded John of birds and their rapid flock migrations. It made him wonder if Phoenixes lived in groups; most likely not. They were probably solitary animals, if they ever were real. 

Although Sherlock shared these traits with the flaming fowl, there was one significant trait that Sherlock shared with the fabled bird that sealed the deal for John. It’s what made him compare the Phoenix to Sherlock in the first place. It’s resurrection. 

Phoenixes are known for exploding into flames and then reviving from their own ashes. John found out early in their relationship – platonic or not – that Sherlock went through a process much similar. Sherlock would get some deep, complicated case or mission or what not and once it was solved, he would burst into flames and burn down to the ashes called boredom. When a new adventure popped up, the great phoenix would rise up from his ashes and soar once more.

The endless cycle created by a mythical bird fit the consulting detective very well in John’s opinion.

When Sherlock fell from the roof of St. Barts, John was sure that his special Phoenix was burnt to ashes for good. There would be no more shooting at the wall, no more eccentric activities, no more brilliantly solving cases, no more of Sherlock’s odd experiments. All of that was gone. 

The chirping from him was gone.

The fluttering of his wings was gone.

The fire in his heart was gone.

The Phoenix was dead.

No more of any of that. Sherlock had gone through his final cycle at last. The fire bird that John called ‘friend’ was dead and it made him sad. It felt like his fire, too, had left with his companion.

When Sherlock came back into John’s life, John smiled. He had been wrong. His Phoenix had risen from his ashes once more.


End file.
